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by historymiss



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historymiss/pseuds/historymiss
Summary: Operation Fuck God just doesn’t have the same ring to it.Written with love for jeanlucifergohard, who requested ‘Mercymorn and Augustine arguing about which one of them is Hera, and which one of them is Aphrodite in this situation‘
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [JeanLuciferGohard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanLuciferGohard/gifts).



Augustine calls it Dios Apate, because of course he does. Mercymorn would rather have called it something more accurate, such as Operation Fuck God, or, as she had been referring to it privately, the Sordid Little Cum Heist, but Augustine had looked at her down the length of his eminently punchable nose and decreed her suggestions crass.

“Yours is crass too.” Mercymorn pointed out, in lieu of the aforementioned punching. Augustine had shrugged, looking up at the stained plex of the skylight in the grimy little room where they’d planned the whole- ha- affair. 

“Ah, but mine is a _scholarly allusion_ to crassness, Joy.” Augustine elaborated, dragging on his cigarette, pinching it between index finger and thumb, like a dart. He used it to point at Mercymorn, and she idly entertained putting it out in his eye. “Yours is just a lot of angry swears.”

“And I suppose you’re Aphrodite in this scenario.” Mercymorn crosses her arms, fingers digging into her upper bicep so hard she can feel the muscle shift. “Teaching me all the ways of Sex and Desire.” 

“I wouldn’t presume.” Augustine looked at her sideways. “But you may want to look less like an aggrieved penguin when you make the attempt.”

Mercy gave him the traditional gesture suggesting that he could take his coital expertise and apply it to himself.

“Consider an ambrosial bath, is all I’m saying.” Augustine ploughed blithely on. “Though I doubt you could ever be described as ‘ox-eyed’.”

“Classical knowledge,” Mercy replied witheringly, “is a poor substitute for a personality. Anyway, technically we’re both Hera.” She fixed him under her gaze like a moth under a pin. “There’s a joke about old queens I’m not making. Bask in my beneficence.” 

Augustine admitted the hit with a wave of his hand, cutting the ever-increasing fug in their conspiracy nest. Mercy will remember, at that moment, a sense of strange completion, as if all her many years had led to this, bickering with her enemy as they planned divine lèse-majesté.

“I’m still not calling it Dios Apate.” 

The Saint of Patience bit his lip for a moment in thought, then looked back at Mercy.

“Two Heras, One Cuck?”


End file.
